Say Something
by LunarEclipse360
Summary: A tragic accident leaves their relationship broken and fragile. In an attempt to shelter themselves from even more hurt, they pull away from each other. Now they hang by just a mere thread; on the verge of snapping. *One shot inspired by A Great Big World's "Say Something"*


**Say Something**

_by: LunarEclipse360_

_**(A/N: this little one shot was spawned late last night, but I didn't get to writing it until this morning. Inspired by A Great Big World's song of the same name -the original, not the Christina Aguilera version. This really wrote itself. I just sat at my tablet and started typing. Before I let you get to it, I have a favor to ask of someone; anyone. I need covers for two of my one shots: Never Forget and Sick Inside. If someone could make those for me, that would be great. It doesn't have to be both, it could just be for one. The person - or people - that do make it for me, I'll write a one shot for you of anything you like. Of course it has to stay in the HSM universe, but it can be about any character or any couple that you want in any situation that you want. I just really need a cover for those two. It feels so incomplete without one.)**_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

_I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

_Anywhere I would've followed you._

_Say something I'm giving up on you._

_::_

The silence in the apartment was something he had grown used to hearing in the past few months since it happened, but it was never a welcomed sound - or lack thereof. Sighing, he ventured further into the space he shared with his... Well, he wasn't quite sure what to call her. Months ago, before it happened, she had been his fiancée; the love of his life. Full of spirit. She had eyes that shined like stars and a laugh that could touch hearts. But she was no longer that same person. Those beautiful coffee coloured eyes that he had fallen in love with lost its sparkle. She barely spoke to him; much less laughed like she used to. In fact, she didn't laugh at all anymore. He missed it. He missed her.

"I'm home," he said, though knowing that she wouldn't care. He found her where he left her that morning; lying in their bed, curled up in a ball. Sighing, he tossed his coat on the chaise and walked towards her. He took a seat on mattress and stared at her back. He contemplated touching her, but chose against it. "Gabriella."

When she didn't answer, he shook his head and left the room. Unbeknownst to him, she had wanted him to touch her; wanted to feel his hand against her skin. But when it didn't happen - when he left the room - she curled into herself even more and tried not to cry. He wasn't the only one who noticed the shift in their relationship. She felt it, too, but she knew that it hadn't been entirely her fault. Part of this change had been his doing. Since the incident, she hadn't been the only one pulling away.

_**6 Months Ago**_

His thoughts ran a million miles a minute as he rushed through the front doors of Albuquerque General. The police hadn't said much about what happened, but he knew it couldn't have been good if she was taken to the hospital. Finding his way to the front desk, he waited, impatiently, for the elderly woman in front of him to finish. Minutes later, she walked away and he stepped up to the secretary; giving Gabriella's name. The woman said nothing, instead opting to call one of the doctor's assigned to his fiancée. She told him that the doctor would be out to bring him to her and to wait. He waited again; wishing that someone would just tell him what was going on.

"Troy Bolton?"

His head shot up at the sound of his name. In front of him stood an African-American woman dressed in scrubs and a white lab coat. He guessed she was the doctor he had been waiting for. "Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Franklin; I'm the one treating Gabriella," she spoke, holding out her hand.

He grasped her hand and shook it in greeting. "How is she? The police wouldn't tell me much."

"Follow me, Mr. Bolton."

He did so with a grim feeling that he wasn't going to like what he found. He followed her deeper into the hospital into the ward meant for trauma patients; people who've been in car accidents and fires and the like. Stopping in his tracks, he reached out for the doctor to stop her. He needed to know what was going on. He had to know what he was going to find when she finally took him to Gabriella.

"Please," he pleaded, "I need you to tell me what happened."

Dr. Franklin sighed before pulling him to the side so that they wouldn't be in the middle of the hallway. "How much did the police tell you?"

"That she was in an accident, but that was it." Despite there being no emotion on her face, he could see the sorrow written in her dark eyes. "What? Is she...?"

"No, Mr. Bolton, she...she's still alive, but," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Were you aware that she was pregnant?"

He shook his head; the news coming as a shock to him. But then he noticed that the doctor had used the past tense and he was almost afraid to ask the question. "W-was?"

She nodded. "Unfortunately, your wife -"

"Fiancée," he corrected. "We...we haven't set a date, yet."

"Gabriella was in a car accident. She was blindsided by an oncoming truck that ran a red light. She has a concussion, a broken leg, and a few cuts and bruises. By the time emergency services got to her, she was on the verge of passing out. But she managed to tell paramedics about the baby before succumbing."

The pause that she took made his stomach turn. Dr. Franklin was every bit of a professional in her explanation, but he could tell that the next few sentences were going to be hard to swallow by the look in her eyes.

"Please, Doctor; tell me what happened to my child."

"We tried, Mr. Bolton; we really did try," She took a breath, "but the impact tore the placenta from her uterine walls. There was nothing we could do." A tear slid down his cheek and he closed his eyes to prevent any more from escaping. "We had to do an emergency c-section to remove the fetus and the placenta."

Leaning his head against the wall, he could sense there was a 'but' that was about to attach itself to the end of that sentence. "Just say it, Doctor."

Sighing, she continued. "Unfortunately, she was hemorrhaging and we couldn't stop the bleeding. Our last resort was to do an emergency hysterectomy."

"And that means?"

"It means that we had to remove her uterus." The extremity of this situation finally dawned on him and he slid down the wall, into a sitting position with his head in his hands. With the removal of her uterus, Gabriella will never be able to have children; never be able to feel life growing inside of her ever again. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Bolton."

He shook his head. He needed to see her; needed to see how she was taking all of this. "Take me to her," he said, standing up.

Nodding, she motioned for him to follow. He obliged, but with a heavy heart. She stopped outside of a room and put her hand on the door handle, but didn't turn it. She, instead, turned to him. "There's something you need to know first, before I let you go in." He looked at her expectantly. "Gabriella hasn't awoken, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"When she slipped into unconsciousness, she was suffering from the effects of her concussion. Because of that, she went into a coma. We don't believe that she'll be out for long, but we don't exactly know when she'll awaken. Bottom line is when she does, she'll still believe herself pregnant. She doesn't know what happened and I think it would be better coming from you than from me." He nodded in understanding and she opened the door. He stepped inside and took in the sight of his love asleep on the hospital bed; leg casted and in a sling, bruises littering her beautiful face, bandages wrapped around her head where he guessed was where she hit it. "I'll leave you alone with her."

He turned to the woman. "Thank you, Dr. Franklin."

She gave him a sad smile before nodding and closing the door behind her as she left. The only sound that filled the room was of that of the heart monitor; the only thing that reassured him that Gabriella was still alive. He took his time reaching her as his eyes still took her in. As he neared closer, he could see the rise and fall of her chest; so small that it was barely noticeable. Grabbing the nearby chair, he placed it at her bedside and sat down. His gaze never left her face and his hand found hers on top of the scratchy hospital blanket that hid her lower body from view. He didn't know how he was going to tell her what the doctor had told him. It would destroy her; he was sure of it. Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about how distraught she would be when she found out that she could no longer bear children. He placed a kiss to the back of her hand and wished that there was something he could do.

Days rolled by with still no change. He began to worry that she might never wake and such a thought scared him. Two weeks after the accident, he was called by Dr. Franklin at his office to be told that she was showing signs of waking up. He took the rest of the day off and quickly made his way to the hospital. He was told that there was still a possibility that it might take a while before she fully awoke, but he didn't care. He just wanted to see her beautiful brown eyes staring back at him again. Hours passed, but she hadn't stirred. Leaning back into the chair, he let his eyes drift close as a bout of fatigue washed over him. Before he had a chance to slip off to sleep, he felt the hand that had been attached to Gabriella's being squeezed gently followed by the faint sound of his name. When he opened his eyes, he found hers staring back at him. Forgoing sleep, he sat up and smiled.

"Hi sweetheart."

"Hi," she said, her voice raspy from disuse. She tried to move, but found it painful to do so. Looking around, she noticed her surroundings and looked back at him. "What happened?"

His face became grim. "What do you remember?"

"I remember saying goodbye to you this morning and heading to work, but after that...it's a blur."

Moving her hair out of her face, he stared into her dark eyes. "Baby, that was two weeks ago."

"What?"

"You were in a car accident and you..." He sighed, "you fell into a coma."

All at once, everything came back to her. The truck. The impact. All of it. Her free hand went to her belly and when she felt nothing, her frightened and confused gaze met his. "The baby."

He looked down; unable to make eye contact. "I'm sorry, Gabs."

"No," she gasped; feeling the knot in her chest beginning to tighten. "Please, God, no."

"The doctor said that the impact caused the placenta to break away from the uterine walls. There was nothing they could do to save it. It was gone before they even had a chance to." Tears streamed freely down her face and his heart broke for this woman in front of him. He didn't think he could tell her that that wasn't the end of it, but knew he had to. He took her hand in both of his and kissed her fingers. "Baby, there's more." She looked at him and he nearly lost it, but for her he had to be strong. "You were bleeding...and they couldn't stop it. They...they were going to lose you if they didn't do something, so they did the only thing they could." He took a deep breath. "They had to perform an emergency hysterectomy."

"No." She broke down; her grief too much to handle. "No!"

He stood; embracing her the best he could. Anguish. Misery. Heartache. All words he could use to describe the pain that ripped from her throat with each cry. "I'm so sorry, Baby," he whispered as he kissed the top of her hair; tears falling from his own eyes. "I'm so sorry."

That was the beginning of the end.

The beginning of her withdrawal.

The beginning of his distance.

The end of them.

The hospital released her days later with an appointment with her doctor two weeks later to remove the cast. Both physically and emotionally unstable, she was given leave from her job as a physics teacher at the nearby high school. With nothing to take her mind off of what she lost, she found it hard to want to get out of bed every morning. The doctors had labeled her clinically depressed and prescribed her medication, but she refused to take them. She hated the way they made her feel. She wouldn't deny it and say that they didn't work, because they did. When she took them, she didn't feel sad anymore, but she didn't feel happy either. When she took them, she didn't feel anything. So she just didn't take them.

He tried to get her to reconsider, but she wouldn't listen and, after a while, he stopped trying. But there was a strain on their relationship; a strain that neither of them attempted to lessen. The more she withdrew from him, the more he distanced himself from her until he no longer slept in their bed. Although it was uncomfortable, the couch had become the place where he rested his head at night instead of on the pillow beside her.

::

_And I will swallow my pride._

_You're the one that I love_

_And I'm saying goodbye._

_::_

He didn't bother to let her know that he was home that next evening. He knew it wouldn't have made a difference. She wouldn't come to greet him like she used to. What was the purpose of saying anything if she wouldn't say anything back. Moving into the kitchen, he noticed the mail sitting on the counter. His eyes flew to the bedroom; surprised that she had gone to get the mail. Maybe it was progress. Maybe it was nothing at all. He didn't allow himself the small hope that it meant something. After going through it and finding nothing of interest, he removed his tie and started towards the bedroom. What he expected to see when he entered the room wasn't what he found when he got there.

The room was devoid of any life. She was nowhere to be found and it both surprised and worried him. He took his cell phone out of his pocket to see if maybe she had called him to tell him where she had gone, but there were no messages; no voice-mails awaiting him. In the six months since the accident, she barely moved from this room and when she did, she never left the house. What made her leave today? And where had she gone? Taking a look around the room, he began to notice the subtle changes that wouldn't have been recognizable on a first glance. The dresser drawers were slightly ajar. Walking over to it, he opened them and found the ones that would have her things in them empty. Turning to the closet, he opened the doors and half of it was empty. Only his things were left hanging there. All of her clothes were gone; leaving just bare hangers in their wake.

He did a 180 degree turn; his heart breaking inside of his chest at the thought that she had left him. On the bed lied a note and something else. Upon moving closer, he recognized it as her engagement ring. He slid the paper from beneath it; avoiding the ring at all costs.

_My dearest Troy,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Where? I won't tell for fear that you'll follow me. This is your chance to start over; to start anew. Find someone who will make you as happy as you once were - maybe even happier - when we had something to be happy for. We were happy, right? That wasn't just a dream that my mind made up in the worst moments of my depression? But even if we weren't - even if it really had been a dream - I want you to be happy. You deserve that much. I need you to know that I don't blame you for the way you distanced yourself from me. We were both trying to protect our hearts and, in the end, we isolated ourselves from each other. _

_I still love you, Troy; I'll never stop. But I need to find myself again. I need to figure out who I can be now that everything's different. I couldn't ask you to wait for me. Just because my life has come to a standstill, doesn't mean yours has to._

_My mom used to tell me that if you love something, you need to learn to let it go if you feel that you might end up hurting it. Well, this is me letting you go. I'll always remember the years we've spent together; the love that we felt for each other. Never forget me, okay? I love you and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

_Yours, always,_

_Gabriella_

A single tear hit the page; he wasn't even aware that he had started to cry. He hadn't even realized that, like she had done, he had withdrawn himself from her. But now, looking back on it, he knew that she had been right. He distanced himself from her; albeit unintentionally. She had written that he deserved someone better than her, but if he was honest with himself, she deserved someone better than him. She had gone through one of those most traumatic experiences in her life and, instead of being there for her, he met her defense mechanism with one of his own. Sitting on the bed, he grabbed the ring and held it between his fingers. He remembered the day he gave it to her; remembered the park in December, the twinkle lights that gave her an ethereal glow and the pure joy in her eyes when he went down on one knee. He closed his hand around the tiny symbol of his everlasting love for her and bent his head. His shoulders shook with the sobs that had suddenly overtaken him.

Distressed. Sorrowful. Broken hearted. All words he could use to describe how he felt in that moment as he realized that the one woman he'd loved with all his heart had left him so that he could be happy again. He laid his body on the bed that he hadn't occupied in months and allowed himself to cry for his lost love.

_::_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

_And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

_And anywhere I would have followed you._

_Oh say something, I'm giving up on you._

_Say something, I'm giving up on you._

_Say something._


End file.
